


just enough space

by Byacolate



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Adoption, Alive Hale Family, Baby Isaac, F/F, Girl!Derek, Girl!Stiles, Kidfic, Librarian Stiles, Rule 63, Single Parents, gratuitous fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-30
Updated: 2013-07-21
Packaged: 2017-12-16 15:55:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/863855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Byacolate/pseuds/Byacolate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On Tuesdays and Thursdays, Ms Stiles was the librarian in the children’s section, and Isaac was in love.</p>
<p>or</p>
<p>The one where Derek is a single mother harboring a massive crush on the local children's librarian.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [syubmonnie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/syubmonnie/gifts).



> For kireinight's request: "Stiles is a hot librarian and Derek has a kid who adores the librarian in the children's section and is always telling Derek about her and then one day Derek sees her and the librarian ends up being that girl she vaguely remembers Cora hanging out with and damn she grew up"

When the neighborhood soccer mom dropped Isaac off at the doorstep, he was raucously sucking the last drops of juice from a carton that Desiree didn’t recognize. The brand didn’t ring a single bell (which was  _usually_ the case for organic products in the Hale household), and if that wasn’t enough, the type of juice itself was completely foreign in concept to her.

 

The fact that Isaac had come home with something in his mouth that Desiree had not sent him off to school with was not a new development, however. It hadn’t been for the past couple of months. Must have been a Thursday.

 

“I like carrot and pearapple now,” Isaac announced when she shut the door behind him, gnawing at the tiny pink straw. Derek quirked a brow and Isaac dropped his backpack and pulled a note from the pocket of his sweater. The corners of Desiree’s lips twitched as she took the familiar blue stationery from his hand and scooped him up, hauling the giggling boy up over her shoulder and into the kitchen.

 

“I guess you like carrot and...  _pearapple_ more than mac ‘n’ cheese then?”

 

Isaac shouted his protests, which turned to pleas, which then became the gnawing of brand new fangs on Desiree’s shoulder before he was settled on a stack of phone books at the dinner table.

 

A brief inquiry about his day at school led Isaac into a harrowing tale about playground antics and the difficulty of kindergarten academia while Desiree put a pot of water on to boil, digging the milk and butter from the fridge as he went on. His grumbling tummy was only too audible to Desiree’s ears and she gave him an apple (“A  _real_ one, not the juice of a pear-apple hybrid, Isaac, now eat up.”) to take off the edge of his hunger. In that brief window of silence, Desiree’s eyes were drawn to the powdery blue sheet of paper on the counter beside her.

 

“What does it say?” Isaac asked, resting his cheek atop the table and eying the note in Desiree’s hand.

 

“You didn’t try to read it?” Desiree teased, and Isaac threw up his arms.

 

“I can’t read that!” he proclaimed, and then he giggled because it was a conversation they had had many times before.

 

“You still haven’t learned cursive?” Desiree asked, shaking her head slowly. “What are they teaching kindergarteners these days?”

 

“Addiction!”

 

“Addition,” Desiree corrected patiently before reminding him to chew with his mouth closed. Once the water had begun to boil, Desiree dumped the noodles in and stirred them absently with a wooden spoon in one hand, smoothing out the crumpled paper on the kitchen counter with the other.

  
“What does it say?” Isaac demanded again, banging his fork against the plastic placemat in front of him, and Desiree threw a damp washcloth at his face just to hear him squeal.

 

_I thought I’d introduce the cherub boy to a natural, healthy alternative to fruit-flavored sugar water so he can grow up to be a food snob like yours truly._

 

“She says she wants you to eat healthier,” Desiree says, and a couple months ago that sort of talk would have ignited a spark of irritation in her, some stranger telling her how to raise her kid. But there was just something about the way Isaac talked about Ms Stiles, how he trusted and adored her when he had trouble warming up to anyone, that had made Desiree pause to examine her character again.

 

Isaac smiled brightly, shaking his head. “Ms Stiles eats curly fries every day!”

 

“Does she?” Desiree’s eyebrows crept up. “Well, she’s a grown up, and she gets to make that decision. But you’re only five, so guess what we get to eat with our mac and cheese?” Slowly she reached into the refrigerator, one eye trained on Isaac who had frozen in anticipation. He laughed when she pulled out a head of broccoli. “What is that?” he giggled, and Desiree blinked. Maybe it  _was_ time to change their eating habits if Isaac couldn’t identify broccoli that wasn’t frozen in a bag.

 

“It’s going in our processed cheese pasta to give us the illusion of health,” Desiree answered, and Isaac just nodded like he understood.

 

_I realize that this is somewhat hypocritical, seeing as I usually send him packing with candy every Tuesday and Thursday, but those are organic too, hand to god. I’m not sure how that works actually, organic candy, but it’s what the old dude driving the windowless van said so it’s gotta be legit._

 

“What’s so funny?” Isaac demanded, and Desiree had to put the knife down beside the chopped bits of broccoli because all the shaking from laughter might have resulted in a missing finger if she wasn’t careful.

 

“Ms Stiles is funny,” she answered, and Isaac gushed in agreement.

 

There was more to the note, but Desiree dutifully folded it in half and turned her attention to the broccoli and to Isaac, who had taken down the apple like the wild animal he very nearly was. She dumped the greens in with boiling noodles and drained them shortly after, responding as necessary to his absent-minded and often inconclusive anecdotes.

 

By the time the dish was ready and Desiree had set the table for two and settled down across from the boy, Isaac had finally reached the subject of the library.

 

Desiree was a single mother, and no amount of support from her sisters and fellow betas could ensure that Isaac was under pack protection  _all_ of the time. Once Isaac had started school, Desiree knew she couldn’t ask them to take care of Isaac until she was home from work day in and day out.

 

Fortunately for her, that sort of thing was a problem enough parents faced that the school system had formed a solution.

 

Isaac by nature was a fairly quiet boy, and he soaked up stories like a sponge, so it had seemed a godsend that the elementary school offered an after school program for the children that involved a network of parents walking the group of kindergarteners to the public library just down the block from the school, where they were rounded up and entertained for a couple of hours in the children’s section. It was almost completely run by parent volunteers (“volunteers” being a somewhat abstract term, as volunteerism hedged on mandatory for parents of children in the program, and thanks, Barbara, for taking the liberty of signing Desiree up for a week of child-herding every other month), and upon taking Isaac in and moving out of her literal-hole-in-the-wall apartment to a white-picket-fency sort of homeowner society neighborhood, there were plenty of parents with minivans to escort the children home on their street. It was simple and handy and Isaac loved it, so Desiree loved it.

 

Laura insisted it was a great opportunity for Isaac to learn to integrate himself in the world with people outside of the pack and school. Desiree knew Isaac didn’t particularly use the afterschool program for socialization. Not on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays anyway.

 

But on Tuesdays and Thursdays, Ms Stiles was the librarian in the children’s section, and Isaac was in love.

 

Nearly two months ago when he first came home with lollipops and stacks of books crammed in his backpack, Desiree had been taken aback. At first, she worried that stolen the candy and the books (without intent, of course; Isaac didn’t have a malicious bone in his body). Isaac insisted that Ms Stiles had given them to him, and so Desiree had written a note stating her concerns, sealed it in an envelope, and entrusted it to Isaac to give the librarian when he saw her next.

 

The long, gushing note he brought back two days later was unexpected, to say the least. Written on blue notebook stationery in fuchsia ink, the woman who called herself Stiles apologized for sending him off with a bunch of candy and books with no notification, and in hindsight, it was probably a little weird of her to do. She’d checked out the books herself and sent them home with him because Isaac had informed her that he had no library card of his own and he “ _had a trustworthy vibe, so I was totally confident he’d bring them back on time_ ”. As for the candy, Desiree knew exactly what she meant when Stiles said he “ _just has the sort of face you want to give all the nice things to, but all I had on me was like a bag of Dum Dums, so_ ”.

 

Isaac had insisted she write back, quite enjoying playing the role of messenger, so she had, and Stiles was only too happy to reply, and now... Well, now Desiree could sort of understand why Isaac was so enamored of her. After a little nonchalant wheedling that Desiree wasn’t totally proud of, she was able to glean over time from Isaac’s descriptions that Ms Stiles wasn’t a snappy little old lady (which was a good thing, because while Desiree wasn’t totally superficial, she’d probably feel a little weird for harboring a tiny crush on someone her uncle’s age). She had brown eyes and short hair and she was tall, taller than Desiree, and she talked with her hands.

 

“Ms Stiles read to everyone today,” Isaac said, and Desiree knew that she’d have to trumpet at least a little in her next note that Isaac loved her broccoli, carefully omitting that it was soaked in processed cheese and butter.

 

“What did she read?”

 

“I can’t remember,” Isaac admitted, spearing a thick green stalk of broccoli and chewing at the head. “But it was about a kitty cat who thought he was a dog!”

 

Desiree smirked, giving herself a mental reminder to rib Stiles about her choice in literature - for instance, was she not confident enough in the mental comprehension of five-year-olds to settle them in with _War and Peace_?

 

“How silly,” she said, and he agreed, carefully balancing a cup of water in both hands to drink from.

 

“‘Member, mama,” he said breathlessly when he was done swallowing water like a drowning man, “next week you’ve gotta take us to the library.”

 

“Is that right?” Desiree indulged, though she knew very well what the “volunteer” schedule was. “I do remember being signed up for that.”

 

“Thanks, Barbara!” Isaac chirped automatically. It sounded so sweet and genuine coming from his mouth. Isaac didn’t quite have a handle on the whole sarcasm thing yet.

 

“And that’s... every day, is it?” Desiree asked, making sure to put her serious face on.

 

“Yes!”

 

“Can’t you walk yourselves to the library on Monday?”

 

Isaac looked scandalized. “No! You have to come! We’re too little to walk alone!”

 

With a sigh, Desiree acquiesced and allowed Isaac to give her a stern lecture on her responsibility as a grown up and what it entailed when walking the group of twelve five-year-olds from the school to the library. She didn’t tell him she’d received a very similar spiel from the parents-as-teachers committee at the beginning of the year.

 

“I told Ms Stiles you were gonna come, so you  _have_ to be there,” Isaac said to wrap up his lecture, and Desiree was only a little embarrassed that she perked up at that. She didn’t have any facade to keep with Isaac, and the only reason she had to keep cool where Stiles was concerned around him was because he was uncannily good at reading body language and, judging by the detail Stiles gave in her notes, very little discretion about what information he offered to the librarian.

 

The day Isaac realized Desiree had taken a special interest in a woman he adored was the day  _Stiles_ would know... and it was only when Desiree considered the possibility that Stiles might one day come to find out about the crush Desiree was sporting for a woman she’d never even seen before that she realized how very silly it really was.

 

“Did you?” she feigned nonchalance. Then she realized she was trying to be _aloof_ with her five-year-old child and smiled gently. “And what did she say?”

 

Isaac shrugged his little shoulders and pouted at his empty bowl. Desiree pushed what was left of hers in front of him. “She was essited. I think my tooth is loose!”

 

Desiree itched to read the rest of the note to find out just how excited Stiles was, if at all, but instead she watched Isaac wiggle his marginally loose front tooth before she let him pull up a chair to help her wash the dishes.

 

To fill the time until Isaac went to bed they each bathed, and Isaac sat in Desiree’s lap to read her a story, and then he benevolently allowed her to read  _him_ a story, and Desiree scooped up two bowls of sugar-free ice cream (they would have delved into the good stuff, but even she knew better than to give Isaac sugar so close to bedtime) and settled in for the length of Fantasia until Isaac fell asleep curled up in her arms.

 

When he was tucked into bed and Desiree had the quiet little house to herself, she spread out the blue note on the desk in her office.

 

_On the subject of angelic blond children who like juice, Isaac has asked me if tying your tooth to a doorknob and slamming the door like they do in the movies is the right way to lose a tooth. On one hand, I was dying to tell him that my best friend and I tried that when we were kids because I wanted him to learn from my mistakes, but I thought maybe I should leave that answer up to you. You’ll be pleased to hear that I definitely didn’t recommend it. I just showed him a picture of some dentures instead and heavily hinted that that was what happened to little boys and girls who try to act out what they see in the movies._

 

Desiree’s jaw dropped.

 

_KIDDING. Oh my god, but I wanted to. Maybe it’s a good thing I don’t have kids myself; I don’t think I’d have the restraint._

 

_Speaking of restraint, Isaac was in the group reading circle for literally seven seconds before he announced his mom would be leading the troops next week. And I may have noticed your name on the parent volunteer sheet once or twice. Think maybe you’ll drop by and say hi while you’re here so I can finally put a face to the woman, the myth, the legend? Maybe get your precious angel his own library card?_

 

The corners of her lips curled and for the first time in years, Desiree was pleased to find something like butterflies in her stomach - something she hadn't felt in a long time.

  
  
_Of course you will. How could you deny that face? You can't. That's why my candy stash has lowered significantly in the past two months._

 

_I'll be meeting you then, D. - Stiles_

 

It felt like a promise, and Desiree was like a goddamn teenager again.


	2. Chapter 2

 

Beacon Hills was no metropolis, but it wasn’t a tiny town. The Hale pack’s territory stretched into the second town over beyond the woods, but it wasn’t the only pack in Beacon Hills. Just the biggest. The McCall pack was tiny, just a young man and his mother, who had made it clear that they had no intention of joining a larger pack’s fold, no matter how many times Laura had offered. There was another pack whose territory technically dipped its toes past the Beacon Hills city limits since the expansion of the town line in the mid 1900s. They weren’t as old as the Hales, but they were many in number, and two of their cubs were in Isaac’s class - the same two in the group of knee-high chattering kindergarteners Desiree ushered into the library on Monday.

 

Isaac didn’t interact with them, nor did he dislodge himself from Desiree’s side when she left them all in the care of the children’s librarian, but Desiree didn’t push.

 

“Ms Stiles will be here tomorrow,” Isaac insisted, as though Desiree had forgotten. She nodded solemnly and allowed him to rest his cheek on her thigh on the outside of the reading circle. Once they had dropped the last child on their block off later that evening, for the first time all afternoon the scent of Isaac’s tension dissipated.

 

It made Desiree smile to see him so enthusiastic the next day after school, clinging tightly to her hand not out of anxiety, but out of anticipation. Where the day before he’d barely said a word the whole walk to the library, he chattered a mile a minute that Tuesday afternoon. One person he’d only known for a handful of weeks was capable of cracking her boy out of his shell, and even if Desiree hadn’t wanted to meet Stiles in the flesh before, she definitely would have now.

 

Desiree was a goddamn adult and there were absolutely no titters of anticipation in her heartbeat, and if Isaac kept glancing at her like he noticed something was off, well, he was young. His senses weren’t properly honed yet.

 

When Isaac saw Stiles, he didn’t go bolting off like Desiree thought he might, but rather he gripped her hand even tighter and practically vibrated where he stood. If he’d been a real wolf cub, his tail would have been wildly beating back and forth. “Is that her?” Desiree asked, squeezing his hand back. He nodded, beaming back up at her before looking out across the wide library toward the children’s section. There were a few different adults milling around the shelves, parents and volunteer librarians alike, so Desiree couldn’t place her, but the children urged her forward with intent and she knew she was about to find out.

 

‘Ms Stiles’ turned out to be a woman of considerable height, lean and coltish as a teenage boy, with short, messy dark hair and probably the prettiest brown eyes Desiree had seen on another human being. They took one look at Desiree before recognition clicked and they lit up like goddamn fireworks and Desiree was _gone_.

 

“Holy cow,” Stiles breathed, and wow, how was that mouth _not_ the first thing Desiree noticed, holy shit, “you’re - whoa.”

 

Desiree felt her brow furrow of its own accord, her reflexive reaction to anyone else’s attraction usually being slight confusion and embarrassment.

 

(To the people she was likewise attracted to, anyway. Skeevy men tended to receive nothing but pure derision from Desiree Hale.)

 

Then she remembered exactly who she was talking to - the ridiculous person who wrote long, detailed notes about superheroes and children’s literature and organic lollipops - and the awkwardness she felt at the sudden scent of attraction eased. “Whoa?” she asked softly, a teasing smirk quirking at the corner of her lips. Stiles swallowed.

 

“Whoa,” she reiterated, running a hand through her bird’s nest hair. It’s uncanny how endearing it is when Desiree’s known her for all of twenty seconds. “Uh. I’m Stiles?”

 

"I figured."

 

Isaac giggled into Desiree’s hip. “Can I return my ‘brary books?” he asked, and when Desiree released his hand he wandered off.

 

“So, uh. The D?”

 

Desiree’s eyes flicked back over to Stiles, pleased to see a touch of color high in her cheeks. “Excuse me?”

 

“D Hale. That’s how you sign - things?”

 

It was so hard not to smile when Stiles looked so flustered. “It is.”

 

And the bland look Stiles shot her made it clear she knew Desiree was teasing her, but she could hear the librarian’s heartbeat pick up.

 

“So are you being intentionally obtuse because your parents were mean enough to actually name you D, or is there a real name in there somewhere?”

 

“Desiree,” she said, fairly certain her cool, calm facade was probably shot to hell. Desiree could only hide so much amusement.

 

“Desiree’s a really nice name,” Stiles finally said, scratching the side of her neck. She looked down and then there was a solid weight pressing against Desiree’s leg. Isaac didn’t say anything, content to just stand there and watch them, so Desiree carded her fingers through his curls.

 

“My parents thought I was going to be a boy for a very long time,” she said. It was a little surprising how much she wanted to tell Stiles, how invested she was in bringing out another grin on that freckled face. “They called me Derek until about a month before I was born. They really liked the name, but they must have liked me more, because they didn’t make me keep it.”

 

“Sometimes Laura calls you Derek,” Isaac chirped up before tucking his face shyly into her hip when they both looked down at him.

 

“She does,” Desiree confirmed. “But only when she wants to annoy me.”

 

“All the time?” Isaac asked, and Desiree mumbled the words right back. Stiles snickered, drawing both of their attention back to her. Big brown eyes moved from Isaac’s face to Desiree’s and she looked for all the world like she had something to say until a chorus of childish shrieks caught them all off guard and Stiles cleared her throat. “I, uh, I need to - we should probably get in a circle before the building is brought down by a pack of unmonitored five-year-olds.”

 

She didn’t move, though, and neither did Desiree. Not until Isaac made a little noise and tugged Derek’s pantleg. “Let’s read a story,” he said, and Stiles honest-to-god flailed her way out from behind her computer stand and over to the huge daisy-shaped plush carpet in the middle of the children’s section.

 

Forcing herself to settle in with Isaac before she looked back at Stiles was hard, but probably for the best, because one look at those hands would have had her stumbling if Desiree had been standing. Her fingers were..... nice. _Really_ nice. Long and sort of knobbly at the knuckles and utterly restless. Desiree had to look away after a moment, like she could somehow manage to act like she wasn’t affected if she pretended not to keep sneaking peeks every ten seconds.

 

And of course Stiles was one of those people who read in different, dramatic voices just to make children laugh, and the book was laid open across her lap so her hands could talk along with her, flicking out and about expressively, and then Desiree’s masochistic focus was back on those _fingers_.

 

“The end,” all the children chanted around her, bringing Desiree back to earth. The story had finished and she’d barely heard a word.

 

After another story was told and a few parents had come by to pick up their children, Isaac ran off to find more books, and Desiree was left with Stiles to... socialize.

 

It was sort of quiet and awkward because Desiree was making it quiet and awkward, and she dug around in her brain for something, anything to say.

 

“I’m bad at talking to new people,” she blurted, and immediately wanted to duck behind a shelf and die from embarrassment. She couldn’t even act like an adult for five seconds when it really counted. How had she managed to string together an entire cohesive paragraph, let alone kept correspondence with Stiles for entire weeks at a time? It didn’t help that she’d been out of the dating pool for years. Maybe Laura had been right all along; maybe she should have at least tried to put herself out there in the world, if only to give her enough practice so she wouldn’t sound like such an idiot in front of the one person she actually wanted to impress. “Not that you’re. Not that you’re new. To me. Just.”

 

Impress her? Desiree would probably be lucky if she managed to not to drown Stiles in word vomit.

 

The mental image made her cringe.

 

“I get it,” Stiles snorted, scratching behind her ear. Her mouth twisted into a sympathetic grin. “It’s like meeting an internet friend for the first time, except less dweeby.”

 

“You think making a five-year-old kid deliver notes between two fully functioning adults is somehow less dweeby?” Desiree said before she could think, and Stiles burst into delighted snickering, shaking her head.

 

“Touche. I’m still at a loss. When we were writing, it was easy, because it was like I got to know you a little bit, and I knew Isaac so we had some common ground there. And then you walk in the room like...” She gestured toward Desiree’s body and gave her a meaningful look. “Yeah. So I was kinda tongue-tied, too.”

 

Desiree felt bashfulness crash into her at full speed and looked down at Stiles’ shoes. For the life of her, any and every response she might have had dripped from her brain and out of her ears until the silence between them was thick enough to cut with a knife. Stiles made a little noise and her hands jerked. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” she said in a rush, practically reeking of mortification. “I just - sometimes I forget not everyone’s comfortable with that sort of thing, and we joke so much that I just felt cool talking to you like that, I didn’t mean to - to come on to you or anything, you’re probably not even into girls -”

 

“I am.” Desiree glanced up cautiously when she heard Stiles’ heartbeat skip and felt a little spark of hope. “I just haven’t done the - the...” The interacting thing. The attraction thing. The human contact thing. “This. Sort of thing. In a while.”

 

“I was really excited to meet you.”

 

“Isaac told me.”

 

Stiles’ grin was just short of amused. “Yeah? What else did he tell you?”

 

Flirting. Desiree could do that. She could flirt.

 

“That you eat curly fries every day.”

 

Or maybe not.

 

“Crap. The jig is up.” Stiles threw her arms out. “Fine, you got me; I’m not the wise, healthful goddess you probably imagined. I pig out on bacon cheeseburgers my best friend every Saturday, too, and Thursday is Chinese night. Are you happy now?”

 

“Your arteries might not be,” Desiree deadpanned, and Stiles shoved her shoulder playfully just in time for Isaac to come stumbling out from behind a bookshelf.

 

“I picked some books, Mama,” he said, blue eyes wide. “Can I get a ‘brary card now?”

 

"She didn't get you one yesterday?" Stiles narrowed her eyes. 

 

"I wanted you to bear witness," Desiree said. Maybe if she sounded sarcastic enough, Stiles wouldn't know she was telling the truth. "So maybe you'll stop reminding me every week."

 

"I'll even sign you up for it," Stiles insisted, dragging both of them over to her computer podium. "I'm just gonna need all your contact information, Isaac. And your mother's phone number?" She thought she was being clever. Desiree snorted. 

 

"My personal number?" she asked, just as coy. Stiles _beamed_.

  
"I mean, you could totally give me your work number, if that's the kinda thing you're into."

 

Desiree definitely wasn't going to start entertaining fantasies involving Stiles in her office while standing in the middle of the children's section. And if by chance she was, she certainly wouldn't be doing it alone. 

 

"It could be," she said thoughtfully. "But you'd have to give me plenty of incentive to distract me from my work."

 

Something sparked behind Stiles' eyes and Desiree watched with fascination as a bright, cheery red spread from the tip of her nose to her ears. "Y... yeah?"

 

"I know our address," Isaac piped up, effectively cutting anymore innuendo-fuelled banter from the process of filling out his library card.

 

It didn't, however, stop Stiles from sending a text to Desiree's phone that night, rife with smileys and practically reeking of childish glee that read, _We've upgraded from passing notes to texts, almost like real people! :DDDD_

 

Okay, maybe the childish glee was Desiree's.


	3. Chapter 3

“You text a lot.”

 

Stiles whipped around, thick hipster glasses nearly flying off her face in the process, and wow, when had Desiree developed a thing for glasses? That was new.

 

“Yeah, well, you... aren’t as talkative as I’d anticipated, so I have to keep open the lines of communication somehow!”

 

Isaac let go of Desiree’s hand and dug around in his backpack to return all of his books to Stiles. Desiree just... took Stiles in. The librarian had crouched down to Isaac’s level and took each book as he handed them to her, one by one. It was inordinately hot out, as Californian Augusts were wont to be, and she was wearing a tank top that exposed her sunburnt, freckle-smattered shoulders that Desiree just wanted to -

 

“I was thinking I'd take turns reading with someone today,” she was saying to Isaac, and Desiree brought herself back to the present in time to see Isaac’s eyes widen. “Do you want to read out loud, too?”

 

“No,” came his instant reply, shaking his head emphatically. “No thank you. I don’t want to.”

 

“That’s cool, little dude,” Stiles nodded, ruffling his curls. “You don’t have to.” She peeked up from under a veil of thick, dark eyelashes and Desiree swallowed. “Maybe your mom would like to help me instead?”

 

“Sure,” she said, just as automatically as Isaac, just as vehemently in support of the suggestion as Isaac had been against it. Stiles beamed and Isaac just looked relieved she hadn’t tried to convince him further. Desiree gently squeezed the back of his neck and he leaned into the touch.

 

She ended up taking turns with Stiles reading, though Desiree was no where near as expressive as Stiles. She had the feeling she was somewhat of a disappointment to all the little boys and girls, the wolf cubs the only few who managed to keep still and pay attention during her allotted reading time. About half way through the book one of the little girls, Rebecca she thought, had to go to the washroom, so Desiree was relieved of reading for a bit to escort her. When they got back Stiles was already on the next book, and when she sat down on the floor Isaac crawled over to sit in her lap. “Mama,” he whispered just loud enough for probably anyone in the circle to hear, “you missed the whole story.”

 

“Sorry,” she whispered back, and the crack in Stiles’ voice and the way her face had split into a grin she was trying to fight made Desiree’s insides do funny things.

 

She wasn’t sure how Stiles could talk for that long, because it was story after story for an hour before parents started showing up. When most of the kids were gone, Desiree sent Isaac to go pick out some books for the weekend. Stiles was hunched over logging barcodes into her computer, but when she noticed that Desiree was standing there on the other side of the desk, she straightened up and held out her hand. “Organic banana-flavored gummies. Isaac told me you had a sweet tooth as well.”

 

Desiree’s lips parted in surprise. Stiles gave her a lopsided smirk. “I know, I know, you’re totally blown away by my thoughtfulness. Take all the time you need.”

 

“Time’s up.” Desiree snatched the candy away before she could do something embarrassing, like crowd Stiles against the Junie B Jones display.

 

When Isaac came back with an armload of books, Stiles gave him some of the gummies as well. He grinned and dropped half of the books when he grabbed it. Desiree bent down to pick them up, stuffing her own bag of candy in her pocket. “Don’t eat them all right now, save some for after dinner.”

 

“Okay,” Isaac said, opening the package. When she stood up, Stiles was already signing out the books that had been in Isaac’s hand. “Are we having mac n’ cheese for dinner? Mama makes the bestest mac n’ cheese, Ms Stiles. You should come over and have some!”

 

Stiles gaped at him for a minute like a fish before sending a hasty glance toward Desiree. For her part, Desiree was conflicted; if the positive vibes she was getting from Stiles went anywhere beyond plain old physical attraction, that didn’t necessarily mean Stiles was ready to do something so intimate as eating dinner in their home. And then she realized with no small amount of embarrassment, “Isaac, I don’t know if we’d have anything Ms Stiles would like. She’s very health conscious. We'd probably disappoint her.”

 

Isaac nodded slowly, a little frown marring his face. “We don’t even have curly fries,” he said apologetically, Desiree’s subtle teasing flying over his head. But then he looked up and smiled. “But we have broccoli! Please Ms Stiles, you could come over and have broccoli?”

 

She glanced between them and then smiled down to Isaac. “We can’t have a meal of broccoli, though it’s a good sign for your digestive health that you would want that, little dude. I could bring some things over if you don’t have much?” This part was said with a glance up to Desiree. Oh god, that was a hopeful glance. Stiles _wanted_ to come over for dinner. She’d have to learn the hard way that Desiree couldn’t cook to save her life.

 

“I...” Both Isaac’s puppy eyes and Stiles’ bright hope-scent wore her weak inner protests down to dust. “That... would be nice. But not on a school night. Tomorrow, Ms Stiles is invited to dinner.”

 

Isaac beamed and Stiles reached over the desk and messed up his hair. “Well, looks like I have a date for Friday night.”

 

Desiree felt her throat tighten with a noise of surprise, which she quickly tried to hide behind a cough. Stiles seemed to have caught it still, because she backtracked. “A date with this cutie, of course. How about I bring everything we need for curry chicken?”

 

Isaac squinted. “What’s that?”

 

“An exotic dish the likes of which I’ll never be able to recreate,” Desiree muttered to herself, and Stiles snickered.

 

“That’s my scheme,” she said leering over the top of her glasses. “I’ll make you fall head over heels for my curry chicken so hard that your lust for it will haunt you for the rest of your life. Like a siren call.”

 

 

"Right. For the chicken," Desiree snorted.

 

“Can I check out these books please?” Isaac asked, exasperated.

 

“Sorry!” She cleared her throat and took the books from Desiree. “So, what time do you want me there? It’ll have to be after five, and I’ll have to stop at the grocery store before I show up, so maybe five thirty?”

 

Desiree made an agreeable sort of noise. “That sounds good. So what exactly is it that you do when you aren’t here? Do you work part time?”

 

“I do desk work at the sheriff’s department sometimes,” Stiles muttered, fumbling with the stack of books and scanning them through to the computer. “But at the moment I’m mostly dogsitting for a friend, and the dog has weird dietary restrictions and ‘prefers certain mealtimes’,” she said in a completely different tone of voice, snooty and clipped, and Desiree was certain there was a story behind  _that_. “So I feed him and let him out at exactly four thirty every day. I’m basically a dog slave. Here you go, Isaac. Want me to help put these in your bag?”

 

He nodded and soon his backpack was filled to bursting with books. Stiles zipped it up and grinned, fiddling with the stapler on her desk. “So, yeah, text me with the address. And I’ll show up. With food. And bells on or something. Not real bells, just metaphorical bells. So I’ll see you both. Tomorrow.”

 

“Bye Ms Stiles,” Isaac beamed, clutching Desiree’s hand as she started to tug him away. “Say hi to the doggy for me!”

 

“Right, remember you have to come feed us as well,” Desiree said, and the color in Stiles’ cheeks darkened as her grin spread wide.

 

* * *

 

 

On Friday, after all the kids were picked up or dropped off, Desiree and Isaac got home and started to clean. She got a stool in front of the sink and told Isaac that if he did the dishes without getting water over the counter, she would make his favorite dessert. 

 

“That’s okay,” he said, patting Desiree’s arm once she’d helped him climb up the stool, “I know you can’t make it, I’ll just do the dishes for you, Mama.”

 

“I don’t know whether to feel proud or insulted,” Desiree said, kissing his temple before she swept the kitchen floor and sanitised the countertops. There was no way their house was going to be a pigsty the first time Stiles saw it. They didn’t have much time before she would be there either; when she had texted Stiles with the address a few minutes ago, Stiles had texted back that she was almost finished with the shopping.

 

Isaac did a fantastic job with the dishes, and only got a bit of water on himself and the floor. Desiree sent him upstairs to change as she threw a rag on the floor to soak up the water.

 

Laura had given Desiree an army of scented candles last year for Christmas because she knew the scents usually bothered Desiree, but Stiles might have liked them. She looked like the type of person who liked scented candles. So Desiree dug a couple of the milder ones - lavender, a scent even Desiree liked - from their hiding place in the linen closet and lit them both on the living room coffee table. Isaac gasped on the other side of the room, frowning up at Desiree. “That’s dangerous!” he said, scandalized. Desiree nodded.

 

“Very dangerous. That’s why I’m lighting them and you’re not.”

 

“But they could start a fire!” He went over to the first one she had lit and blew it out, and was about to go to the next one when Desiree grabbed him by the middle and hauled him up in the air.

 

He laughed, kicking his feet as she dropped him on the couch. “If you keep blowing out candles like that, the tickle monster might have to come out, and you know how she likes tickling!”

 

“No!” he squealed, laughing as fingers started running up his squirming sides. Little claws and fangs popped out a couple times as he shrieked with giggles, and Desiree relented when his cheeks were rosy from exertion. “Don’t blow out my candles,” she said pointedly and lit it up again as Isaac rested his warm cheek on her shoulder.

 

“Are we making the house pretty for Ms Stiles?” he asked after a moment of companionable silence. Desiree hummed in affirmation. “Why?”

 

“Because she’s a guest.”

 

“Oh.” He contemplated that for a moment. “But we don’t clean for Laura or Cora or Grandma.”

 

“That’s because they like to come and clean up after us,” she said, a little smirk curling at the corners of her mouth. “It makes them feel needed.”

 

He was quiet for a minute, but then they both heard the sounds of a car pulling into the driveway and he jumped up and ran to the door. “She’s here! She’s here!” Isaac opened the door to wait for Stiles to get out of the car.

 

Desiree gave a quiet swear so even Isaac couldn’t hear it. She had wanted to at least get in a vacuum as well, but now it was too late. At least there weren’t any clothes hanging around the living room.

 

“Go help her carry her things in,” Desiree said, and he was out the door by the word go. Desiree could hear Stiles make a noise of delight as she made one last precursory sweep around the living room and the kitchen, diving back toward the bathroom to make sure Isaac hadn’t made a watery mess. Stiles and Isaac were waiting for her in the kitchen when she came back, setting several different bags on the table and the countertop.

 

“Hi! We were just getting things ready.” Stiles turned around and paused, staring at her. Desiree had put on a fitted pair of jeans and a black button down shirt in order to try and dress up a bit for the dinner, but not too much in case Stiles hadn’t. Not that she should have worried; Stiles was wearing a loose skirt and a tank top, practically showcasing her freckled shoulders. The lavender candles were fucking with her sense of smell, but when Desiree moved a little closer, she could catch Stiles’ scent - fresh from the shower, like soap and a mildly sweet floral shampoo, and clean summer sweat. The sight of her with Desiree’s cub in her kitchen only heightened the sudden desire to -

 

To help unpack the groceries because if she didn’t, Isaac was going to start asking weird questions about her scent in a moment that could only make things painfully awkward. “You planning to feed an army?”

 

“Nah, just a couple of werewolves. In terms of how much food can be devoured by a group of people in the space of an hour, it’s basically the same thing.”

 

Desiree looked over at her, eyebrows probably levitating off of her face at that point. “Oh, I didn’t realize that you... knew.” She had actually been wondering how she would tell Stiles that both she and the little boy she had been reading to were werewolves.

 

“The school gave us short profiles on the kids when we agreed to take them on after school, in case they have special needs we should be aware of, and there are little subnotes for werewolf children. I figured you would have to be one too.” Stiles glanced over at her. “I hope I wasn’t prying or anything.”

 

“It was probably going to come out sooner or later,” Desiree said, bending over the sink to wash her hands.

 

“My best friend is a werewolf, too, so there’s that.”

 

Desiree glanced up at Stiles, whose hand passed through Isaac’s curls once before she went back to pulling various ingredients from her bag. She narrowed her eyes, taking a guess at the only werewolf in Beacon Hills Stiles’ age that wasn’t a Hale. “McCall?”

 

Stiles blinked over at her owlishly. “You know Scott?”

 

“Tried to get them to join our pack a couple years ago. He refused, said my uncle tried to seduce his mother. My uncle, however, claims it was an innocent date.” Desiree frowned at that. “Unfortunately I’m more inclined to believe McCall on that one.”

 

Stiles had her hand over her mouth and was looking at her with big eyes. “You’re the pushy underwear model!” she seemed to blurt out. “I-I mean, that’s what he called you, I don’t think that you’re...”

 

“Pushy, or an underwear model?”

 

“I really don’t know how to respond to that.”

 

Desiree snorted, leaning back against the counter with both arms folded over her chest. “I don’t model, if that helps.”

 

“Bullsh....sugar,” Stiles said, catching herself with a short glance toward Isaac, who rolled a head of cauliflower around in his hands. “You’re wasting so much potential.” She grabbed a jar and handed it to Isaac, asking if he could open it for her because the lid was on really tight. He looked excited to be able to help with something.

 

“They would want to pluck my eyebrows though,” she said, chuckling softly.

 

“They wouldn’t,” Stiles gasped. “Those are your most defining features. They punctuate your sentences!”

 

“I like your eyebrows,” Isaac piped up by her side, struggling with the lid, trying to turn it the wrong way. Stiles looked about three seconds away from mauling him with affection.

 

“Thank you, Isaac. Would you like me to help you?” He nodded, handing the jar over, and Desiree popped it open without fanfare and handed it back to Stiles.

 

Stiles diced up the chicken and left the pieces in a cast iron pot to braise before adding a wealth of other ingredients and spices that, frankly, Desiree hadn't even known existed. Next she started the whole grain rice boiling and set the timer. Desiree enjoyed watching her work, momentarily allowing herself to wonder what it might be like if she could watch this every night, to have achieved such a sense of familiarity that Stiles wouldn't have to ask where they kept the salt or the wooden spoons. It was a... a pretty mild fantasy, considering so many of her silly little daydreams involving Stiles usually ended with one less child in the room and far more nudity, but it stayed there nestled in the front of her mind.

 

Isaac was only too happy to help, taking on every task he was given with single-minded concentration. Desiree felt a little useless, to be honest. She busied herself setting the table, a little thrill jolting through her at the thought of setting the table for three when the third party was a woman like Stiles. It was rare that she set the table for three. Normally it was just her and Isaac, or a small collective number of the Hale pack. Any more than that and they just went to the family house for meals. On rare occasions Laura alone would invite herself over, but those were normally the nights that they all sat in the living room and ate from their laps.

 

“Now!” Stiles took the glass lid from Isaac and settled it atop the pot, washing the onion and spices from her hands in the sink. “Now we let that simmer for a bit and one of you gets the glamorous job of directing me to the nearest bathroom.”

 

For the next fifteen minutes, Isaac took his time showing Stiles around the house, introducing her to his room and where he kept the library books (safe and tidy on his bookshelf) to the living room where all his favorite movies were lined up nice and neat in the bottom drawer where he could easily reach.

 

Stiles said she was impressed, and read through the names of the movies. “You have all the Land Before Time series! I didn’t know kids still watched these ones!” She took one out and scanned over the back cover.

 

“I don’t like the first one. The mom dies.”

 

Stiles was quiet for a minute, bumping Isaac’s shoulder with her own. “Yeah. It’s pretty sad, isn’t it?”

 

“Mama doesn’t like those parts of movies either,” he said, looking over his shoulder at Desiree, who leaned against the kitchen doorway watching them both. “She cries when we watch Bambi. An’ Finding Nemo.”

 

“Me too. Maybe we can all cry together sometime. Bonding!”

 

Desiree walked in from the kitchen to stand over them, arms crossed. “Isaac, you aren’t telling Ms Stiles embarrassing stories about me, are you?”

 

“Not embarrassing at all! Bambi is a deeply emotional movie,” Stiles said, nodding her head with a gravely serious expression.

 

“We don’t even own that movie,” Desiree grumbled, wrinkling her nose in distaste. “It’s so depressing. I've only seen it once." Stiles' eyebrows jumped up, so she continued. "I fell asleep on the couch one year at a Christmas party and when I woke up, my sister and Isaac were sitting with me and they were pretty far into the movie.”

 

“You woke up just to see Bambi’s mom get shot?” Stiles gasped, eyes wide. “That’s... your sister is  _cruel_.”

 

“That’s what mama says!”

 

She sat down on the couch, setting juice box on the table for Isaac. “We could watch something right now, and finish it when we're done eating?”

 

Isaac looked excited and grabbed Hercules. “This one this one!”

 

“Nice choice, little man!” Stiles gave Isaac a high five and Derek took the DVD from him to put in the machine while Stiles and Isaac got comfy on the couch. “Hercules is the best! Meg is awesome.”

 

“Yeah, and Pegasus!” Isaac bounced into Stiles’ lap and they spent the next five minutes arguing for the existence of flying horses while Desiree hastily tried to start the movie in the middle of Stiles’ “if werewolves exist, why not horses with wings!” conjecture.

 

“But mama says-”

 

“Mama doesn’t know everything. I bet there is a Pegasus flying over the house right now and mama wouldn’t know it at all,” Stiles declared. Isaac’s eyes went wide and he looked up to the ceiling.

 

“Don’t listen to her,” Desiree said calmly, squeezing his shoulder and settling down on the sofa beside them as the age-old advertisements began to play. “I  _do_ know everything.”

 

Isaac flopped out of Stiles' lap and squeezed himself in between them on the couch. “You didn’t know that Stacy was a boy in my class.”

 

Stiles chuckled at that and Desiree looked over at her. She had a trio of freckles on the cut of her jaw just below her ear that Desiree hadn’t had the chance to notice until now, and it was one of the cutest things she'd ever seen. Where else would she have chaotic patterns of freckles hidden away?

 

She stood so abruptly then that Desiree’s heart nearly burst out of her chest. She wondered in a brief jolt of panic if maybe Stiles could read minds and knew the dirty direction her thoughts had taken when Stiles excused herself to the kitchen. But then the human paused and turned to look almost... cautiously at Desiree. “Do you want to show me where your, um... vegetable drawer is?”

 

It was the worst excuse for a summons Desiree had ever received, and she couldn’t get off of the couch to follow Stiles fast enough.

 

Isaac was still engrossed in the movie as Desiree went around the corner to the kitchen, following Stiles. She stood with her back to the counter, looking over at Desiree and was biting her lip. “He can... hear us in here, can’t he?” she whispered as quietly as she could, and Desiree gave a nod.

 

“If he’s focused on us. But I don’t think he is-”

 

“Awesome,” Stiles breathed, and hooked her fingers in the loops of Derek’s jeans to haul her closer. Instinctively, Desiree grabbed the edges of the counter by Stiles’ hips so she wouldn’t crush her against the marble edge, which... seemed to be Stiles’ intention, if the look of exasperation on her face was anything to go by. But she let her hands go limp, hanging from Desiree’s belt loops by the thumbs and her tongue flicked out to wet her bottom lip once, catching Desiree’s rapt attention. “So. I was thinking...”

 

"Yes. Whatever it is, yes," Desiree breathed, not even caring if she sounded desperate at that point. After flirting with this girl for months, and then in person for a week, she would do just about anything requested of her. Stiles blinked owlishly before she pulled Desiree’s hips closer and leaned in. In her haste, Desiree moved to do the same and bumped her nose against Stiles’. “Sorry,” she mumbled, but Stiles just snickered and tilted her head to the side, pressing a small kiss to the corner of Desiree’s mouth.

 

“God, you’re adorable, you know that? In a kind of scary, unfairly hot sort of way,” she murmured.

 

"No idea what you're talking about," she said, and then pressed their mouths together, fucking _finally_. Stiles had soft lips, and Desiree was pretty sure she tasted strawberry lipstick. She put her own hands on Stiles' sides, feeling her subtle curves underneath the lose tank top. When Stiles' shirt rode up, Desiree stroked a thin, warm strip of skin with her thumbs. Desiree felt a deep, primal part if her stir at the shudder jolting through Stiles' body. She crowded Stiles further against the kitchen counter and slowly licked her way into her mouth.

 

Stiles reached a hand up to cup her cheek, holding her there as the kiss was deepened. Desiree cursed the fact that they were doing this in the kitchen with Isaac in the living room, because she wanted to lift Stiles up onto the counter and have her plump thighs snug around her torso.

 

A short burst of childish laughter from the living room made them both jump, and Desiree yelped when Stiles bit her tongue.

 

"Oh god!" Stiles gasped, jerking back. "Oh no, shit, sorry! Here, let me see..." She cupped Desiree's jaw and coaxed her mouth open, and though the pain had dulled to barely a throb in a matter of seconds, Desiree could not help but flush warmly under Stiles' concern.

 

“I’m not going to stick my tongue out for you to inspect.” Desiree said, feeling ridiculous even with her mouth open like that.

 

But the look that Stiles gave her was anything but ridiculous. “What if I want to kiss it better?” And she gave an honest to god pout at that.

 

 

Desiree leaned in and stole a quick kiss from Stiles' surprised mouth. "Isaac is coming," she muttered, pulling back a second before the little boy stumbled into the kitchen with wide eyes.

 

"Mama, are you okay?"

 

“I’m fine, just... bit my tongue.” Desiree grinned down at him and put a hand on his curly hair. “Is the food almost finished? I’m starving.”

 

Stiles peeked under the lid into the cast iron pot and nodded. “Looks good. Where are your oven mitts?” She glanced around the kitchen, but they weren’t in plain sight.

 

“Oh... I don’t have any, actually.” Desiree stepped forward and switched off the gas. “We normally don’t cook with this pot, or... bake with the oven, and when we do it doesn’t hurt much anyway.” She smirked at the surprised sound that came out of Stiles’ mouth when she reached out and grabbed the pot handles with a couple dishrags.

 

“That... is a horrible example for Isaac.”

 

“Laura said so, too,” Isaac chimed up as he climbed onto his seat, perched high on a stack of phonebooks. Desiree snorted and set the scalding hot pot down on the pad in the center of the table.

 

“If auntie Laura thinks you’re setting foot near the stove in the first place, she clearly doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

 

When the pot was safely on the table, Stiles grabbed Desiree’s hands, holding them palm up. She could see the angry red skin where the pot had burned through the thin cloth, and she watched as it changed slowly to pink, and then faded completely, as if it had never been there. “I’ve... I’ve never seen a werewolf heal before. Well, a few videos on youtube, but nothing in real life.”

 

She let her hands go, and Desiree wiped them off on her jeans. “Normally it’s not something we like showing to humans. In the past, it didn’t turn out well for us. But I don’t suspect that you’ll send us off for testing in a lab?” She said the last part with a bit of a smirk.

 

"But doesn't it still hurt, mama?"

 

Desiree's eyes softened and she took her hand from Stiles' to drag it through Isaac's hair. "Yes, a little, so I shouldn't do that. Maybe I'll go get some oven mitts this weekend."

 

“And then I can help you cook?” He sounded excited.

 

“Of course! In five years I’m sure you’ll be helping me all around the kitchen. Now, Isaac, do you want to say grace?” She sat down at her seat and glanced over to Stiles when she made a sound in the back of her throat and grinned.

 

Isaac put his hands together and sang Johnny Appleseed, and clapping once at the end.

 

Stiles scooped up spoonfuls of rice on their plates before covering them with heaps of curry chicken. The scent of all the spices, rich and heady made Desiree's mouth water and the first bite nearly had her groaning. Her foot accidentally bumped Stiles' under the table, but before she could apologize, Stiles' ankle hooked around hers with incredible deliberation.

 

The food was delicious, definitely better than anything that had ever come out of their kitchen before. Isaac was humming delightedly while eating his, taking big mouthfuls of chicken and rice. So much so that he didn’t notice that there was a game of what could only be called footsie going on under the table. Desiree ran her bare foot up Stiles’ calf, just to under the hem of her skirt.

 

Stiles, for her part, had slowly begun to turn a fetching shade of pink, which was only slightly satisfying compared to the ruddy color she’d turned when Desiree had pressed her up against the countertop -

 

“Mama, what are we gonna do tomorrow? It’s Saturday,” he reminded her firmly.

 

Desiree looked over at him and pretended to think on it long and hard. “We could go to the beach? You could invite that one boy you’ve been playing with, Vernon?”

 

“He likes being called Boyd. And I don’t think he likes me.” Isaac didn’t look sad at all saying that, just as if he was stating a fact, and that made Desiree’s heart hurt a little.

 

“Oh, kiddo,” Stiles said, “he definitely likes you.”

 

Isaac peered up at her with wide eyes. “Really?” he asked, hesitantly.

 

“Definitely! Boyd’s just a little shy. But you know, he likes the same sort of books you do, and he doesn’t have all that many friends. I think if you just went up to him and said hello, you’d see how easy it is to make friends.”

 

The little boy gave a shrug and looked down at his plate. Boyd was not the only shy kindergartener. Isaac still had a hard time making friends, even though he had been in kindergarten for two months already. Stiles must have caught on that he wasn’t planning on asking Boyd, because she suggested, “Well if you’re going to the beach tomorrow, why don’t I come with you?” That made Isaac perk up.

 

“You don’t have to take care of the dog tomorrow?” he asked, and Stiles paused.

 

“Uh... well, I can... bring him along, maybe!”

 

Desiree bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. Thank goodness Isaac was around. For all his shyness, he was so much better at keeping Stiles around than she would be if the task was left up to her.

 

“Do you like to swim, Ms Stiles?” Isaac asked. “I love to swim. Mama doesn’t, but I do.”

 

She grinned and nodded. “I love to swim. I used to be a lifeguard. So if your mama can’t swim, she shouldn’t be afraid, because I am trained to keep her safe.” Stiles smirked over at her, and Desiree rolled her eyes.

 

“It’s not that I can’t swim, I would just rather be on the beach instead of in the smelly water.”

 

“Yeah, you kinda look like you like to tan, too,” Stiles said, her eyes trailing up Desiree’s forearms to her neck. Pleased but a little self conscious, Desiree found herself deflecting.

 

“Maybe a little better than you. You look like you just burn.”

 

“God, my shoulders have been  _killing_ me,” she groaned, lifting one and eying it sharply. “Forget to slather on sunblock  _one_ time, and you have to suffer the agony all week.”

 

Desiree knew that she was smirking but couldn’t help it. “Well, for some of us.” She had never had to use sunblock, since she didn’t burn. Isaac however always insisted on being covered in the stuff from head to toe though, so he never got much color in the summer.

 

Stiles glared at her from the corner of the small table and dragged one of her toe nails down her foot. “No need to brag about your magical tanning goddess skin, because of course you would be one of those people. Others have to work at it a bit more.”

 

Desiree dragged her eyes over Stiles’ shoulders for a moment and shrugged. “Maybe you should work at it a bit... less?”

 

That earned her a light punch in the shoulder. Isaac laughed, covering his face with both hands. “Is it that bad?” Stiles moaned, and Isaac squeaked, “Yes!”

 

Desiree didn’t know she could feel so content. It wasn’t long before the meal was finished, and she insisted that she could clean up later when Isaac went to bed. So they all went back to the couch to finish watching the movie.

 

By the end of it there was a curly blond head of hair resting on Stiles’ shoulder, snoring gently. Desiree turned her eyes away from the credits playing and gently picked him up so that he wouldn’t wake up. “I’ll put him to bed, I’ll be down in a few minutes,” she said quietly. Stiles nodded and Desiree could feel her eyes on her back as she carried Isaac up to his room.

 

When she came back downstairs, Stiles was just finishing the few dishes they’d dirtied and setting the plates in the rack to dry. Desiree leaned against the doorway and watched her rinse her hands off and dry them, eyes heavily lidded. Stiles jumped when she turned around to find Desiree standing there. “Holy shit, you are...  _crazy_ quiet.”

 

“Werewolf,” she said, as though it were an answer. Desiree grabbed a few dry plates and put them away, but she really wasn’t concerned with the dishes right now. “Well, Isaac is asleep, and he definitely won’t be waking up till morning. Now I wouldn’t say that I was an expert, but would you consider this a date?”

 

Stiles rested her hip against the sink and studied her. “Considering the makeout session in the kitchen, I would say it had _better_ have been a date.”

 

Desiree let out a quiet little laugh and tucked a long, dark strand of hair behind her ear. “Good. I... good.”

 

Stiles groaned, bumping against Desiree’s shoulder. “Seriously, you’re probably the hottest thing under the sun. How can you be so cute?”

 

“Shut up,” Desiree grumbled, nudging back. She was stronger, so Stiles stumbled a little, but she didn’t seem to mind.

 

“I would totally be up for an encore of that by the way, the whole making out in the kitchen thing. Or we could change the location? Really anywhere would be fine with me.” She stepped away from the counter, her eyes bright with anticipation. Desiree could practically smell it on her, the want, and she stepped forward, taking Stiles around the waist. “The couch might be a good idea.”

 

She trailed the tip of her nose down to the curve of Stiles’ jaw and pressed her mouth there so softly she could feel Stiles shiver. “Yeah,” Stiles stuttered, “yeah, yeah, ‘cause... because we’ve practically already christened the kitchen, so... if you could get us there without, um, stopping  _that_....”

 

Desiree smirked and tugged Stiles’ earlobe between her teeth just to hear her whine.

 

With Stiles in her hands, Desiree walked her backwards while sucking on her pulse point. She could navigate the house with her eyes closed, so it wasn’t much of a trial to make it to the living room without looking. They only bumped into a few surfaces, but Stiles giggled a little every time so she counted that as a win. Stiles had one hand on her shoulder, squeezing the fabric of her shirt and probably wrinkling it, but Desiree couldn't bring herself to care.

 

The Hercules title screen played on a loop in the background as Desiree settled Stiles on the couch before straddling her thighs. “I,” she growled out between little bites down Stiles’ long, white neck, “I have - wine, if you’d like some.”

 

“That’s so polite,” Stiles laughed breathlessly, fingers curled in Desiree’s hair. “I’d love some, but um, I’d r-rather not stop?”

 

Desiree didn’t pull back to speak so much as talk against her skin, “But if you drink, then I couldn’t let you drive home in good conscience, and you would have to stay the night.” 

 

“Mm, that does sound tempting. How quickly d-do you think you could get some wine?”

 

Desiree smirked, nipping superficially at her bottom lip before she pushed herself off. Stiles looked utterly wrecked, her hair reminiscent of a birds nest, one strap of her tank top slipping down a sunburnt shoulder. Her dark eyes had glazed over and her mouth, god that  _mouth_....

 

“Wine,” Desiree reminded herself hoarsely, raking a hand through her hair as she stumbled into the kitchen.

 

She didn’t even bother with the glasses, just grabbed a bottle of red and went back to the living room. Stiles was looking over the back of the couch, licking her bottom lip, pupils blown wide in the light from the TV. Desiree sat back down and wrenched the cork out with a claw, handing it over. “I hope you like red.”

 

Stiles looked down at the bottle and giggled a little manically. “No glasses?” she asked before taking a swig. Desiree watched her mouth purse at the lip of the bottle and grunted.

 

“Didn’t think you’d need one.”

 

“You’re not drinking?” Stiles asked, before Desiree carefully recorked the wine Cora had gifted her a year ago, set it on the table, and pushed Stiles back.

 

“I’m not drinking,” she confirmed, attaching her mouth to Stiles’ throat.

 

"But... I don't need to finish a whole bottle by myself," Stiles said, gasping towards the end when Desiree gave a small bite to her skin.

 

"Werewolves can't get drunk with normal wine. God you smell so good." Desiree moved up and dragged her teeth down Stiles' earlobe, catching for a second on her stud.

 

Stiles just realized that she had a hand carding in dark hair, occasionally catching on a knot. "Th-thanks, it's called New Bud..."

 

"I don't mean the perfume. I mean your scent _under_ the perfume."

 

“Way to insult a girl’s choice of hygiene products,” Stiles laughed, scratching behind her ear. It was probably accidental, but still Desiree didn’t know whether to melt at the touch or feel just a teensy bit indignant at the animal treatment. As a result of either, she sank her teeth into a patch of dark, bruised skin and Stiles  _keened_. “Okay, yeah, insult all you want if you can just... keep doing that.”

 

Eventually Desiree got annoyed with their awkward position stretched out halfway on the couch, so she sat back and grabbed Stiles by the hips, dragging her onto her lap. She practically attacked Stiles' lips, determined at make them red and swollen by the time they were done.

 

Desiree had never met any human being before whose body reacted so strongly to her manhandling. A burst of Stiles' arousal-scent filled their bubble of space, and she bit Desiree back, which.... yeah, okay, maybe a lot of that was Desiree's own arousal-scent.

 

"Nice skirt," Desiree grunted, and Stiles let out one bright, hysterical giggle as Desiree slid her hands underneath and up to Stiles' thighs.

 

"Oh, fuck," Stiles whispered breathily, and spread her thighs farther, seated lower on Desiree's lap. The skirt was bunched so far up that the pale skin above her knees was visible, and Desiree had a fun time imagining what they could do if Stiles wore a skirt like that with no panties.

 

Stiles nudged her nose against Desiree's temple and squeezed the back of her neck. "Would it ruin the mood entirely if I made a wisecrack about how fast we're moving on the first date?" she whispered. Desiree kneaded the soft flesh and firm muscle under her hands and nipped at Stiles' jaw.

 

"Do you want it to ruin the mood?"

 

"No no, definitely not, I mean we've been writing notes so often I feel like I've known you for years, but, it's just been about a year since I've been with anyone, and you've said you had been a long time since _you_ had a date so I was just thinking-"

 

"We can stop if you want," Desiree said softly. She leaned back, just to show she meant it. She even dragged her hands down to Stiles' calves where they bracketed Desiree's thighs. "I'm happy enough just..."  _Being_ in your company was such a cheesy, stupid line, she couldn't bring herself to say it. Instead she leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Stiles' bite-swollen lips.

 

When she pulled back, Stiles had her eyes closed and her mouth partly open. Then she opened her eyes and looked into Desiree's for a second and smiled. "I still have to sleep over tonight. Since we're going to the beach tomorrow."

 

Desiree made a little noise in the back of her throat, sliding her hands back to Stiles' knees. "Thanks for that," she said, squeezing lightly. "I've never seen Isaac act so forward before. I can't remember the last time he invited anyone to spend time with us. Anyone but my mother, anyway."

 

"I rank as high as Grandma? Sweet!"

 

"And you both give him candy. I'm seeing a pattern here." Desiree reached forward, smoothing a hand through Stiles' wayward hair. "Would you like to stay in the guest bed?"

 

Stiles' tongue flicked out briefly between her lips and she shrugged. "I mean, I could. Is that where you want me?"

 

She had no idea all the places Desiree wanted her, but at least now it seemed like there was a chance Stiles might not mind hearing about them.

 

"I want you wherever I can have you, but you're free to sleep where you like," she answered cautiousy. After all it was Stiles who wanted to wait a bit longer before they went any further.

 

Stiles snorted at that and scooted a bit closer. "Well... I bet your bed is way more comfy than the guest bed."

 

"I don't sleep in a bed," Desiree said, cupping Stiles' thighs to steady her. "We born wolves gather large stones to create a cave-like environment for sleeping."

 

Stiles reeled back and stared at her open-mouthed for all of five seconds before she grinned and punched Desiree's shoulder. "Holy shit, your poker face is  _amazing_. I seriously believed you there for a minute!"

 

"Of course you did. Because you're gullible." Desiree grabbed her and stood up from the couch, then put Stiles on the floor. "So, bed?"

 

"What, not going to carry me there?" Stiles challenged.

 

"Did I make your knees go weak?" Desiree teased, surprised at herself just a little for the rib because truth be told, that was exactly what she was hoping for. "Are you feeling faint?"

 

Stiles was standing really close to her, so it wasn't a stretch to put her hand on Desiree's hip. "Just thought you would want to show off some of that werewolf strength I'm always hearing about."

 

"Sounds like a little more than mild curiosity to me," Desiree huffed, but she did not aim to disappoint. She took a second to blow out the candles nearly burnt out on the coffee table. Then in one fell swoop, she crouched down and hefted Stiles over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes, smirking at the librarian's frantically hissed protests.

 

"This is  _so_ not what I meant!"

 

Desiree smacked her ass, laughing quietly to herself as they went up the stairs. "I know what you meant. This was more fun." One of Stiles' legs kicked her in the ribs, and she let out an oof sound even though it didn't hurt.

 

"Not a single rock in sight," Stiles uttered thoughtfully after she'd been tossed onto the bed in the master bedroom and had taken a full fifteen seconds to try and glare Desiree to death.

 

"Imagine that."

 

"Don't you get smart with - oookay, you're getting naked now, that's. Um. Happening."

 

"It's what werewolves do. We don't generally feel the need for clothes," Desiree said, pulling the shirt over her head, buttons still done up.

 

"...I can't tell if you're joking anymore."

 

Desiree kneeled on the bed, pants already on the floor. She felt a flutter of pride at the way Stiles' eyes couldn't seem to leave her body, lingering at the snug cotton briefs that clung to her hips. "That one was partially serious. Most of us are more comfortable when we wear less, but only if we tend to shift a lot. Otherwise it feels restrictive to wear so much, especially in sleep. You should get out of those, by the way."

 

Stiles' mouth opened and closed and she wet her lips. "I think I should put a little disclaimer in here because I normally don't get this turned on by assertiveness, seriously. Like maybe one other person my entire life has ever made a forceful suggestion sound hot, but that sort of doesn't compare to this particular situation because you're _definitely_ talking about nudity."

 

Desiree did her best not to smile. "You don't have to get naked, Stiles," she said, waving a hand toward the closet. "You can wear something of mine, or you can sleep in your clothes. You do, however, need to howl at the moon to pay proper homage to her majesty."

 

"Oh my  _god_."

 

 

Desiree smirked when Stiles lobbed a pillow at her and rolled off the bed, disappearing into her closet. She came back out a moment later with an ancient red track and field t-shirt Desiree had kept around since high school, and pointed at the bathroom door. "Can I...?"

 

 

"Of course," Desiree grunted, turning down the covers. She picked up the novel on her bedside and tried not to be creepy about how closely she listened to the sounds of another person in her bathroom. The sounds of bare feet pattering around in the bathroom met her ears, the quick flush of the toilet, cotton brushing over skin, the long run of the sink and the slosh of lathered soap on flesh. When Stiles stepped out of the bathroom and crept into the bed, she smelled clean, any perfume left on her skin faded pleasantly to a light floral undertone to compliment Stiles' scent rather than cover it. She tried really, really hard not to pin Stiles down and start scenting her when she realized just how intoxicating her scent all over Stiles really was. 

 

 

"You look kinda..." Stiles slowly settled down on the pillow next to her, gesturing vaguely with one hand. "Blissed out."

 

 

"It's a creepy werewolf thing."

 

 

Biting her lip, Stiles edged closer. "I don't know if you noticed, but I kind of like creepy werewolf things."

 

 

Desiree snorted and closed her eyes. "You smell like me, a bit. But your scent is strong, too, so really you smell like - us? It's a little weird for me."

 

 

"Weird good." It wasn't a question. Desiree peeked through her eyelashes to see Stiles' expression. "My friend - Scott - he's got the same thing going on with his long term girlfriend. I guess it's not too weird or you'd ask me to change, right?"

 

 

"You don't have to unless you want to," Desiree mumbled. She blinked her eyes open and reached out touching the side of Stiles' neck. "I have to warn you though, I'll probably end up cuddling you at some point in the night if you smell like that."

 

 

"Oh, dude," Stiles chirped, nudging close until she could fling an arm over Desiree's stomach. "You can start now and just get it over with. I am a thousand percent down with that idea."

 

 

The book was discarded quickly enough and the bedside lamp shut off as Desiree burrowed under the sheets closer to Stiles, not so subtly pressing her nose to the girl's soft brown hair. 

 

 

 _Oh no_ , Desiree thought offhandedly just on the cusp of sleep, an abstract thought nearly lost the instant it had entered her mind. _Oh crap. I could get used to this_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to get Tyger in on churning most of this chapter out because I'm so bad at writing anything of substantial length on my own... and as a result, we produced a monster nearly a thousand times the size of both previous chapters combined. Go teamwork!

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Dillon's Thirteen Thirtyfive: _for you I found a vent in the bottom of a coal mine, just enough space for your hands in the inside._
> 
> If you are so inclined, feel free to follow [my Tumblr](http://byacolate.tumblr.com/).


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